


Come helsike or high tables.

by CGotAnAccount



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, demon keith, summoned in an ikea, the boy wants to suck a little more than souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-08-20 09:15:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20225431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CGotAnAccount/pseuds/CGotAnAccount
Summary: Prompt from PatchShiro and Matt are (broke) college roommates and they go to ikea to replace their coffee/dinner/work table after it finally broke. While there Shiro accidentally summons Keith, a disgruntled half demon who was mid breakfast, while mispronouncing furniture names.'Despite having four degrees between the two them and directional arrows on the floor, Shiro's fairly certain they've passed this same kitchen set up at least three times.“Matt...” He flicks a look over to where Matt's running his fingers along a colander that's probably more high tech than their entire house. “I think we're going in circles.” '





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Patch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patch/gifts).

Despite having four degrees between the two them and directional arrows on the floor, Shiro's fairly certain they've passed this same kitchen set up at least three times.

“Matt...” He flicks a look over to where Matt's running his fingers along a colander that's probably more high tech than their entire house. “I think we're going in circles.”

The fingers twitch but keep sliding, dancing across the butcher block counter and across the glossy stove top.

“We're not lost.”

Shiro sighs, barely resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Heaven forbid someone question a Holt.

“I didn't say we were,” he placates, hands raised in surrender as he trudges behind his friend. “I just said I think this place has a circular layout.”

Matt shoots him a look from the corner of his eye, mouth twisting but remaining otherwise unruffled.

“Who drove here?”

Shiro sighs again, louder.

“I did-”

“That's right,” Matt cuts him off with a huff. “And what does that mean?”

“I'm the pilot, you're the navigator,” Shiro drones dutifully, like he has every time they've gotten lost anywhere for the past decade of friendship. “And pilots can shut the fuck up and go where they're told.”

“That's right.” Matt grins and walks his fingers off the handle of a tea kettle and over to boop Shiro on the nose. “You get us here and pick the music, I decide where we go.”

Which doesn't seem exactly fair to Shiro since he's not the one who broke the coffee table, but he's lost this argument too many times to count and doesn't really feel like having it in the middle of an Ikea where he has to watch his own pathetic face reflected in gleaming chrome.

“Fine.” It's not quite a grumble as he swats the hand away from his nose, but it's close. “Can you navigate us to the coffee tables then? This kitchen costs more than our entire life.”

Matt sniffs and shrugs before turning around and walking exactly back toward the direction they just came from.

Shiro does not scream, because he is an adult.

Barely.

Ten minutes later they've cut through some weird children's fortress, a sea of fake plants, something that must've been a modern art expo, and an entire room full of custom toilet brushes – only to stumble face first into an endless sea of squat tables.

“Beautiful!” Shiro claps a hand on Matt's shoulder and strides into the fray. “Are we grabbing the cheapest one?”

“Mmnn.” Matt wrinkles his nose and eyes some of the more interesting options. “Within reason... our budget is like eighty bucks.”

“Great,” Shiro chirps, lifting a price tag before dropping it with a plastic smile. “That'll buy us one leg and four inches of surface.”

“Oh come on.” Matt rolls his eyes and knocks Shiro's shoulder. “That one is all sleek looking, of course it's expensive.” He wanders over to a bunch of little tables in browns and whites, nothing fancy but they look sturdy enough. “See? These are like thirty bucks... we could get like two and a half.”

“Why would we get two and a half tables-” Shiro shoots him a flat look as he squats down next to one with a glass top. “-when we could buy this... vii... viiis-tu-ju... this one.”

“That one sounds like a venereal disease.” Matt snickers and picks up the next closest tag. “Not nearly as great as the... fuh-jal-bow.”

“I'm pretty sure that's the name of an exercise machine,” Shiro mutters to himself as he squints at the tags. There's a decently classy one with an espresso finish that's caught his eye, smooth to the touch... except for the splinter that lodges into this palm. “Motherfucker!”

“Is that really its name?” Matt's eyebrows climb as Shiro hisses and cups his palm. “Or just phonetically speaking?”

“No,” Shiro growls, wincing as he tugs the little wooden spike from his palm. “This stupid.. kvist-bro shanked my hand.” He scowls at the table as a little bead of blood wells up and slides down toward his wrist. “Who even needs Ikea and their gwal-ov... vej-mon... reg-is-or bullshit?” One shade from full on ranting now, he flails his wounded hand, spattering a few tiny little droplets onto the table. “I only have one left!”

“Dude, biohazard,” Matt gripes as he edges away, eyeing Shiro's mental breakdown like he might demolish one of the tiny tables they can't afford. “No need to spray it all over.”

Shiro's face scrunches in frustration, hand stinging as he snatches the nearest tag and shakes his fist with a bellow toward the ceiling.

“Bos-na!”

A blinding burst like a fire cracker interrupts him, followed by a choking puff of purple-black smoke.

“What the fuck?” A man uncoils himself from the smoke cloud, cereal bowl in hand and eyes flashing.

“What the _fuck_?” Matt echoes, eyes bugging out of his head as the man shakes the smoke from his shaggy hair... and horns.

“What... the fuck...” Shiro sputters through the smoke, clutching his arms back to his chest as he whips his head around the suddenly deserted sea of tables. “Who are you?!”

“_What_ are you?” Matt squeaks, scrambling to put the tallest table between himself and the disgruntled... thing.

“Shouldn't you fucking know that?” The guy grumbles, rolling his eyes as he stirs his spoon. “You're the idiots who summoned me.”

“_Summoned you?”_ Shiro wheezes out, face ashen as he sways into the world's tiniest bar table and promptly knocks it right over. “We didn't summon you... we can't... we don't...”

“We don't summon.” Matt shakes his head back and forth like it'll knock the hallucination from his clearly addled mind. “We're not even anyone's boss.”

Blood red lips quirk sarcastically around the spoon currently shoveling what appears to be cheerios into a fanged mouth. “Obviously.” He settles down onto the table that tried to kill Shiro moments before and swipes a drop of blood up with his finger before sucking it into his mouth. “But you said the words, or I'd still be in my kitchen... so what do you want?”

“The... what?” This is a fever dream, Shiro decides as he blinks up at this gorgeous semi human... demon? He must've slipped somewhere near the shiplap and smashed his head on the butcher block counters.

“The words.” The demon-thing narrows his eyes and twirls his spoon in the air. “You know, _kvasfa gwerlav vajma regis bahzna_?” The air starts to hum as he drones and Matt lurches forward, hands flapping.

“No! No thank you!” The demon startles and waves the spoon in front of him like a sword until Matt scrambles backward into Shiro. “No more demons!”

“Half demon.” It's almost a pout, and edging on cute when combined with the black cat slippers that Shiro just noticed adorning his tiny feet.

“Well, uh... half demon, sir...” Shiro starts, darting a panicked look at Matt. “Can we uh, help you? Mr....”

His head cocks like a puppy, and it would be adorable if not for the way it makes the light flash against the curled horns nestled in his hair. “Keith is fine.”

“Keith, right... excuse me.” Matt blinks at him before turning to the side and slapping himself across the face.

Keith is still there when he turns around.

He shrugs at Shiro, who shrugs back and extends a slightly bloody palm Keith's way.

“I'm Shiro, that's Matt.” He nods his head at the beginning of Matt's own mental breakdown. “We're um... sorry about your breakfast?”

Keith sighs and shrugs, spooning the last dregs of milk against the side of his bowl before snapping his fingers and sending it... somewhere. “It's okay, I've been summoned at worse times.”

“Right.” Shiro nods at him, hoping to build rapport before having his soul eaten. “Like phone calls in the shower.”

Red lips flicker into a smile before pinching shut and Shiro counts it as a win.

“Something like that...” He drums his matching nails on the table he's perched on and flicks a curious gaze between the two dazed fools in front of him. “So, what'll it be today boys? Cursing someone? Love spells?” He eyes Matt's skinny frame and cocks an eyebrow. “Need a little boost in the bedroom?”

“Hey!”

“Ah, no no no-” Shiro cuts in, slapping a hand over Matt's mouth as he steps toward their smirking companion. “None of that, really.”

“Mmm.” Keith drags his burning gaze down Shiro's body and licks his lips. “Maybe not for you, beefcake...” He hops off the table and saunters over, reaching out to run the tips of his fingers down Shiro's cheek. “I bet you and I could make a whole different kind of deal.”

“Uhh...” Shiro's grip goes limp enough for Matt to struggle out and slap away the hands from his best friend's face.

“No soul eating!” He puffs himself up as much as he can while his balls try to crawl up into his body cavity. “It was an accident, you can go home!”

Keith yanks his hands back, teeth bared and hair standing on end. “I can't go home until someone makes a deal,” he snarls. “Maybe if you two did your homework we wouldn't be here.”

“Whoa, hey it's okay,” Shiro soothes, stepping between them and holding a hand out. “It's gonna be okay, we'll find something-” He turns and elbows Matt with narrowed eyes and a jerk of his head. “-right Matt?”

Matt's face twists, petulant as he scowls at Shiro's outstretch hand. “He's not eating my soul.”

Keith scoffs, eyes glittering as he sneers back. “Like I would even take a taste of that.”

“Enough.” Shiro's tone brooks no argument as he gives them both his best disappointed face. “Nobody's soul is getting eaten...” He raises an eyebrow at Keith's crossed arms. “Right?”

The half demon purses his lips before dropping his arms in a huff.

“I don't even do that,” he grumbles, sounding more like a sulking kid than any eldritch horror. “But I wouldn't mind a taste of that c-”

“Succubus!” Matt howls, cutting him off with a jab of his finger. “I knew it!” He tugs Shiro a step back by the arm and hisses in his ear, “He's going to suck out your soul through your dick!”

“What a way to go..” Shiro snorts, eyeing the sharp lines of Keith's face with a sheepish grin. Dark eyebrows wiggle back as Keith winks and blows him a kiss. “But no, I don't think he would do that either... would you?”

“Nah,” Keith shrugs, body relaxing minutely, “M'only half.” One tiny fang pokes from his lips as he aims a shy grin Shiro's way. “Besides, it would be a hell of a waste to suck you dry the first time.”

“Oookay then,” Matt grunts, stalking over to throw himself onto a couch against the wall. “You two carry on with your inter-species flirting, I'll be over here.... alive.”

Flushing to his ears, Shiro twists to glare at his best friend's absolutely done face.

“Shut it, Einstein,” he hisses, trying desperately not let his voice crack. “I don't see you coming up with solutions or making friends.”

“More like making demon babies,” Matt whisper-shrieks back.

“I can hear you.” Keith picks at his nails, giving them both a side-eye while pretending his own skin isn't tinging purple. “And it doesn't work like that, I'm not a carrier.”

“Nope!” Matt lurches off the couch and stomps through the sea of Swedish furniture. “We're done here. I'm going to get my last meal.”

Keith perks up, eyes trailing after him before swiveling back to Shiro, huge and adorably luminous. “There's food here?”

“Uh... yeah... can you eat uh...?” Shiro trails off, thinking about the bowl of cheerios as Keith smirks.

Leaning in close enough that Shiro feels the heat radiating off his skin, Keith breathes against his ear.

“I can eat a lot of things, Shiro...” Pulling back, he gives him another searing once-over before his whole body shimmers, horns disappearing and cat slippers morphing into a pair of sneakers. Perfectly normal fingers caress Shiro's cheek as amethyst eyes wink at him again. “But I prefer meat.”


	2. Chapter 2

It's been three days since The Incident and they've seen neither hide nor hair of any 'cute' half-demon boys since one thanked Shiro for the lunch and popped out of existence in the middle of an Ikea cafeteria. Matt's beginning to think he and Shiro must have ingested some bad mushrooms in their takeout to have such a vivid joint-hallucination - which would really be the best case scenario.

Except that Shiro won't stop moping.

One might think that a guy would be happy after discovering the potentially soul-devouring eldritch terror was really just interesting gastronomical side effects, but no... not Shiro.

“Do you really think we imagined it all?” Shiro sighs for the umpteenth time as he rubs his thumb across the little mark where he swears the sliver was. “Isn't that weird we imagined the same thing?”

“Contagious mushroom induced hysteria,” Matt grunts, doing his best to ignore Shiro from the end of the couch where he's tucked up with his laptop on his knees – they never did get that table. “Like the Salem witch trials.”

“Huh.” Shiro squints at him, thoughtful as he presses down on the spot just to feel the twinge. “Maybe they really were witches...”

“Really?” Matt looks up just long enough to send him a scowl. “We're going there now?” He shakes his head with a grumble and turns back to his laptop. “You have one bad trip and sudden all of history is open to revision.”

Shiro pouts. “Not all of it...”

“Shiro.” Matt heaves a sigh and clicks his laptop shut, turning to give his friend his full attention. “I'm sorry your pretty monster-boy crush wasn't real.” He rests his hand on Shiro's calf and drums his fingers, trying to relate. “I was sad too when Mom and Dad told me Voltron was just a tv show and the mechs weren't real.”

Shiro's brow furrows, like he wants to argue that the bleakest moment of Matt's young life isn't the same as the loss of his burgeoning puppy love.

“Anyway-” Matt hurries on, not wanting to rehash childhood trauma with a non-believer, “-let's go get some tacos, it'll make you feel better and they're two for one tonight.”

Shiro's shrug is feeble at best.

“I guess we can... not like anything in there is hallucinogenic.”

“That's the spirit.” Matt claps him on the back and drags him off the couch. “Don't worry, this will all blow over and you'll be back to being sad over non-demon boys in no time.”

* * *

The tacos are great.

The margaritas are even better.

The new coffee table in the middle of their living room is definitely classier than anything they could afford.

“Aww, Matt,” Shiro stops dead just inside the kitchen to beam at the new addition. “Did you get furniture delivered to cheer me up?”

“What?” Matt stumbles into Shiro's back, clinging to his shirt and peering into the dark room through the haze of tequila. “No, I took you for tacos.”

“Oh.” Shiro cocks his head at the table and stumbles closer, dragging his barnacle of a roommate along behind. “Then where did this come from?” He leans down to knock on the glossy surface, all sleek lines and perfectly assembled joints. “Pretty.”

“Thanks, I picked it out myself.”

The rasp comes from the couch where Keith is curled up with a magazine, eyes gleaming bright in the dark.

“_Demon!_” Matt shrieks and tries to climb up Shiro's side – only to get dumped unceremoniously onto his ass as Shiro throws his hands into the air.

“Keith!” Shiro stumbles forward toward the couch, beaming as he makes drunken grabby hands. “I knew you were real!”

“No, nope!” Matt scrambles backward into the kitchen island, eyes squeezed shut. “The tacos were bad, the tequila was poisoned, we're just drunk.”

“Well, one of those is true.” Keith's laugh is smokey as he uncoils himself from the couch and reaches out to steady Shiro's swaying form. “How much did you have?”

“Enough to drown my sorrows,” Shiro chirps as he reaches out to pet through Keith's hair. “But now you're here and _so _pretty.”

“Uhh, thanks?” Keith is grateful for the darkness as he feels his cheeks heat. “I told you I'd see you later...” He can't help pushing into Shiro's stroking hands, barely holding back his rumble of pleasure as fingers graze his horns.

“Matt said you were a hallucination.” Shiro pouts up at him, eyes big and sad. “You're not, right?”

“No,” Keith laughs, reaching out to trace the tiny mark on Shiro's palm. “You're still stuck with me until we make a deal.”

“Oh god,” Matt groans from the floor, face in his hands. “I knew I should've gone to those stupid classes and gotten confirmed. Grammy was right, the devil is real and he's on my couch.”

“Hah!” Keith rolls his eyes, sinking back down to kick his feet up onto the table, not a cloven hoof in sight. “I'm not even close to the boss... he's got way better things to do than trawl the Ikea catalog.”

Matt whimpers.

“The... boss?” Shiro's head tilts like a confused puppy. “Where do you work?”

“Eeh.” Keith waves a clawed hand, flippant. “It's complicated, I'm more of an intern, or a contractor.”

“Ooh, freelance,” Shiro nods in the way of wise drunks. “That's rough, no benefits.”

“Er, yeah.” Keith coughs into a fist and shrugs. “It could be worse... at least it pays decent.”

Shiro perks up at that, turning back to admire the table he's slumped halfway against. “And you bought us this table?” He's a little breathless, a little love struck – it's not every day a man buys you high quality furniture. “That's so sweet of you...”

“Oh, well...” Keith scratches at the back of his head with a sheepish smile, flashing far too-sharp teeth. “I mean, didn't you need one?”

“No!” Matt cuts in, glaring through the hands slapped over his face. “We didn't need a cursed table!”

Keith bristles, hackles rising with the purple flush in his face.

“It's not cursed,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. “If I gave you a cursed table you'd know it.”

“Oh, course,” Matt scoffs, eyes narrowed. “Seems like something someone who deals in cursed tables would say.”

“You know what? Fine.” Keith hisses, throwing his hands into the air and dislodging Shiro's petting attempt. “I did all the work of assembling the damned thing, but I'll take it all back so you can get it yourself.”

“No!” Shiro hurls himself into Keith's midsection and squeezes, aiming his best sad face upward. “Please, neither of us can follow directions to save our lives.”

“Shiro, I'm _trying_ to save our lives!” Matt growls, fisting his hands in his hair, “What part of demon, demon table, or cursed do you not understand?”

“He's nice!” Shiro wails, squeezing tighter around Keith's ribs. “He said thank you for the lunch, and bought us a table, and he's pretty... can we keep him _please_?”

“Oh my god, Shiro...” Matt resolves to make an appointment with his therapist ASAP, and then maybe one with a priest. “He's not a pet... you can't just keep him.”

“Well, technically-” Keith wheezes out, trying to loosen Shiro's cuddly death grip so he can breathe, “-you're stuck with me until we make a deal, I already told you that.”

“Lunch wasn't enough?” Matt attempts to assemble his face into a passable parody of reasonableness. “Lunch for a table seems fair to me... deal?”

“That's not how that... ugh.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Keith aims a flat look over the top of Shiro's head to his cowering roommate. “It's gotta be within the acceptable boundaries in the terms and conditions.”

“The what?” Matt blinks at him, then at Shiro who looks just as confused and a little heartbroken at the direction of the conversation.

“The terms and-” Keith cuts himself off with a frustrated click of his teeth at Matt's blank face and grumbles at the ceiling. “They never read the contract.”

“I like to read.” Shiro pipes up from Keith's chest where his face has been happily buried. “Do you want to read together?” He blinks up at him, doe-eyed and so adorably tipsy it makes Keith's chest clench. “We can put our books together on this nice coffee table.”

“Sure, Shiro.” Keith pats him on the back and tries to ignore the tingly feeling he gets at Shiro's happy squeal. “We can read together while we figure all this out.”

“And how long will that take?” Matt grumbles into his knees, more of a rhetorical complaint than a real question. “Are you going to haunt us until we die?”

“I don't _haunt_,” Keith sniffs, indignant. “That's ghosts, and I am perfectly alive, thank you.”

“I think you're _perfectly_ alive too.” Shiro's smile is moony, but his hands are as clumsy as his attempts at flirting when he reaches up to try to caress Keith's face.

“Thanks big guy.” Keith pats at the hand currently engulfing half his head and tries not to imagine where else something that big could be useful. “I appreciate the support.” He eases free of Shiro's grip, ignoring his whine of protest, and rises to his feet before the situation can degenerate further. “Anyway, I have places to be... later.”

Then he's gone in a puff of smoke.

Shiro coughs and stares at the empty space, lip wobbling as he flops onto the table – it's sturdy enough to hold his full weight without a creak.

“He left again?”

“Oh don't worry.” Matt grunts, waving smoke away from his face and crawling out from the lip of the kitchen island to poke at the table with suspicion. “I don't think we're free of the menace yet.”

The smoke detector blares a cheerful confirmation.


	3. Chapter 3

“That is absolutely not what I think it is.” Matt gapes at his roommate and drops his backpack onto the floor before stomping over to rip the book from Shiro's hand. “No, Shiro...” His voiced is pained. “'Demons for Dummies', really?”

“Hey!” Shiro stretches up to snatch book back, but Matt steps out of his reach and continues to flail it around by the cover. “Careful, that wasn't cheap!”

“Then why did you buy it?” Matt grouses, pinching the book between a thumb and forefinger like it's going to bite him. “Are you incapable of using the internet now?”

Shiro throws himself back into the cushions with a huff, eyes rolling as he scowls at Matt. “Allura recommended it,” he half-sneers, pulling a face at Matt. “You know, our friend who is actually a professional weird-shit seller?”

“So you bought a how-to book instead of some holy water?” Matt chucks it onto the table and throws his hands in the air. “You've been compromised, Shirogane – one pretty face and suddenly the survival instincts go right out the window.”

“It's not a matter of survival,” Shiro grumbles, snagging the book back off the table and clutching it to his chest. “He's harmless.”

“He's got claws, horns, and fangs,” Matt deadpans, pulling Shiro's legs off the end of the couch and settling down in their place. “He's literally an apex predator that probably eats kidneys for lunch.”

“Don't be an asshole,” Shiro huffs, aiming a kick at Matt's legs. “He_ literally_ ate cheerios and a salad right in front of you.”

“A clever front.” Matt picks at his nails, nose high and determined not to follow Shiro into whatever insanity he's gotten snared in. “He admitted it himself, he can curse people and do any number of horrible things.”

“Eeh, unlikely.” Shiro wiggles the book at Matt and flips open to a marked page, clearing his throat smugly. “According to the experts, 'A half-demon can only cast rudimentary magic, such as itching or love spells – most choose to live as humans to avoid becoming enslaved by greater demons,' so Keith is probably more afraid of other demons than you are of him.”

“I'm not afraid of him.” Matt rolls his eyes and kicks Shiro back. “And being itchy or in love with a gecko or something else weird for the rest of my life if I piss him off doesn't sound very pleasant either.”

“He wouldn't do that.” Shiro's tone is far too confident for someone who met a guy twice under impaired circumstance while nursing a raging crush. “He's a _nice_ half-demon... he bought us a table and wears kitten slippers.”

“Kitten slippers.” Matt squints at him, refusing to believe this is the defense the second smartest person he knows is going to use. “You think kitten slippers are a moral indicator.”

“Bad guys wouldn't wear kitten slippers.” Shiro shrugs at him like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “They're not tough enough.”

Matt can only stare at him, slack jawed as Shiro casually leafs through the pages.

At some point, you can't keep trying to save a man from his own thirst.

“You know what?” He shakes his head and heaves off the couch. “This is fine. You can keep canoodling with your new demon boyfriend-”

“He's not my-”

“-but the second he starts with the soul sucking-”

“-he doesn't suck-”

“-that is _it._” Matt draws a line across his throat, then mimes ripping up papers and tossing them like confetti. “You hear me? I'll sage the fuck outta this place and then burn whatever contract he's got on you to shreds with those fancy candles.”

Shiro pauses, head cocked. “That's... actually really sweet of you, Matt.”

“I know.” Matt sniffs, brushing lint off his shoulders. “Fancy that, I care whether my best friend gets turned into an immortal husk.”

“I don't deserve you,” Shiro snickers, blowing him a kiss. “A wingman prepared to do an entire exorcism just for me.”

“You really don't.” Matt wrinkles his nose at the book one last time before shuffling back to the kitchen. “But all great men must suffer.”

Shiro sputters out a laugh and Matt considers this compromise a win for sanity – at least until he reaches for the battered old kettle to start some tea.

“Shiro...” He squints at it for a moment before looking around. “Did you replace Ol' Screechy?”

“Noooo?” The edge in Matt's tone has Shiro turning, then clambering off the couch when he catches sight of his roommate's ashen face. “What is it? Did it finally give up the ghost?”

Matt just points at the counter where a fancy new kettle sits, all bells and whistles and gleaming oily black surface. It's got at least three programmable settings and a sticker that brags of boiling water in less than forty seconds.

“What is that.”

“It's... a kettle?” Shiro hedges, stepping around him to get a closer look. “One of those really nice ones they sell at-” He clams up, shooting Matt a sidelong look. “-uh, stores.”

“Stores.” The word is clipped and Shiro does his best not to flinch.

“Yeah, you know... vendors of goods?” He clears his throat and picks up the kettle – it feels like a dream in his hand. “So uh, how about that tea, yeah? I'll start the water and-”

“Better make sure it's not on the holy water nullification setting.”

Shiro slumps, turning to meet Matt's flat look with a pout. “You don't even know that it came from him.”

“I know you were bitching about Ol' Screechy yesterday and today we have a new kettle,” Matt scoffs, poking Shiro in the chest. “And I know that you're fucking broke and can't afford the SoulSucker 4000 over here.”

“Even if it is from Keith, that's just another nice thing he's done,” Shiro argues, pout cementing itself even further in place. “You hated that kettle too, the handle burned your palm last week.”

“Right,” Matt drags a hand down his face in exasperation. “I _knew_ it was malevolent and out to kill me, I didn't even have to be paranoid anymore.”

“You don't have to be paranoid now,” Shiro whines, stubbornly filling the kettle with water and clicking it on. “The specs for this are online, it's not some hell-kettle.”

Matt's hand darts out to click it back off.

“The fact that your demon boyfriend might be listening at any time gives me a right to be paranoid!” Matt shrieks, eyes darting around the kitchen like Keith might be hiding in the cupboards as they speak. “What if he's watching me masturbate or something creepy.”

“In the _kitchen_?” Shiro groans like he's been wounded, switching the kettle to boil again as he digs around for disinfectant wipes. “I eat here!”

“And I wouldn't want to watch you jerk off with your microscope and tweezers anyway.” Keith drawls from the kitchen island where he's perched and munching on an apple. “It's just sad.”

“DEMON.” Matt yelps, slamming his hip into the counter as he scrambles to turn the kettle off. “I told you he's always listening!”

“Do you have to do that every time?” Keith winces, wriggling his pinkie in his ear with a bored look. “I said I'm only half.”

“To be fair,” Shiro wheezes, clutching his chest in surprise at the dangling feet that had suddenly appeared in front of his cleaning supplies. “You're welcome to use the front door.”

Keith shrugs and takes another bite. “S'quicker this way.”

“You know what else is quick?” Matt seethes, left eye twitching as he strangles the air in front of him. “Our eviction process if you keep setting off the smoke detector.”

“I didn't even have any this time,” Keith throws his apple filled hand into the air, the other still folded across his chest as he pouts at the cabinets. “Of course you wouldn't notice or appreciate the effort.”

“I noticed, Keith.” Shiro smiles at him and reaches out to clap a hand on his shoulder. “And I appreciate all the things you're doing for us.”

“Suck up.” Matt grumbles, squinting at the two before jerking a thumb at the new kettle. “What the fuck is this for, lover boy?”

Keith twinges purple up to his ears and huffs.

“It's a kettle, obviously.”

“_Obviously,_” Matt parrots, foot tapping. “Why's it here?”

“To... boil water?” Dark brows furrow as Keith cocks his head like it's a trick question. “Is that not what you used that godawful old one for?”

“Oh no, it is,” Shiro assures him, hand flexing on muscled traps a little more than necessary. “Or at least, we tried... Ol' Screechy did his best.”

“At least it only _sounded_ like the souls of the damned.”

“It's not cursed.” Keith sighs, more tired than irritated. “I was just out shopping and saw it.”

“Aww, you thought of us!” Shiro's sappy smile makes Matt want to vomit as he turns and raises impressed eyebrows. “Matt, isn't that nice of him?”

Matt levels him with a flat look and settles for picking at his fingernails in derision.

“I mean, if you don't count the whole creepy stalking us thing maybe.”

Keith doesn't quite pout, it's a little too sharp for that, but it's close.

“I'm not stalking you, that thing looked like a medieval torture device.”

“You would know.”

“Matt,” It's a reprimand and plea all in one as Shiro throws his best friend a long suffering look. “I thought we agreed...”

Indecision wars across Matt's face as he stares down the besotted idiot he considers a brother – resignation wins out.

“Fine.” It's no more than a grunt as he uncrosses his arms and jabs one hand out to the demon sitting on his kitchen island. “Truce.”

Keith accepts the handshake with grace and has enough common sense to hide the smug satisfaction bubbling in him as Shiro beams at them both.

“Truce,” he agrees, then gestures to the bag beside him. “Does this mean you'll accept these plates? Your mismatched dinnerware is hideous.” Matt's jaw drops as the horned menace peers around the apartment with a critical eye. “And maybe a new rug... who even likes orange shag?”

Shiro hunches next to him and drags a sheepish hand through his hair.

“Well, it was cheap, and the floors are cold...”

“Oh no,” Keith clicks his tongue and turns back to grab Shiro by both shoulders, painfully earnest as he stares into his eyes. “Don't worry Shiro, I'll save you from yourself.”

There's not enough caffeine in the world to deal with this, and Matt can only watch them and hope that Keith will share his ability to teleport too - but it looks like he'll be too busy playing Sugar Demon.

He clicks the kettle on with a sigh.


	4. Chapter 4

The sleek new couch shows up a week later, replacing the decrepit old beater Matt and Shiro had picked up from the side of the road two years prior. It's black leather with three full power reclining seats, center consoles with charging ports, and a massage function – which is almost enough to make up for the audacity of buying a three seat couch for an apartment with two occupants.

Though these days that's up for debate.

More often than not Matt arrives home to find kitten slippers propped up on the coffee table as Keith lounges with one of the titles from their new book shelf, drinking tea from one of their new mugs. At this rate the apartment is starting to look like something out of one of those pretentious magazines old ladies pretend to read in lobbies to hide the smutty harlequin romance stuffed inside.

“Demon boyfriend,” Matt greets him with a tip of his head as he shuffles inside, the bare minimum participation required to uphold the truce for Shiro's sake. “Still horned I see.”

“Half-demon, not-boyfriend,” Keith corrects absentmindedly, barely lifting his eyes from the cheesy sci-fi novel he's clutching. “Not worth it to glamour around you.”

Matt makes a noise of disagreement and trudges over to the fridge, fully prepared to suffer through another condiment sandwich... except the fridge, which has never seen more than sad lunch meat and protein shakes other than his mom's leftovers, is full to bursting.

“Did Shiro go shopping?” Matt calls over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around or pretend that Keith wouldn't know exactly what Shiro's been up to at all times.

“No.” The response is mild, bland even. Nothing to indicate one way or another the presence smugness or lack thereof.

It still grates on Matt.

“You don't need to feed us.” It's a quiet grumble, more for himself than anyone else, but Keith is peering at him oddly from the counter where he's materialized when he looks up.

“Do you really hate me so much you'd rather eat stale bread and ketchup?”

His voice is steady, face placid, but even Matt can read the undercurrent of hurt. Grabbing an apple with a sigh, Matt straightens up until he's eye level with unsettling amethyst and horns.

“I don't hate you, but you're freaking me out.”

He swears the horns droop.

“But I'm not even doing anything...” Keith's face twists into a mask of annoyance, a shield thrown up over his squishy insides. “ And you two are going to get scurvy at the rate you're going.”

Matt bites down on the reflexive snarky comment and steps back to hoist himself up onto the opposite counter. “It's not that you're doing something.” He drags a hand through his hair, frustrated and sick of living on edge. “It's that you're not doing what I expected.”

Keith's brow wrinkles, slippers kicking against the doors of the cabinet. “What did you expect me to do?”

“More soul sucking, obviously.” Matt rolls his eyes and waves a hand up and down Keith's body. “He summoned you with blood and magic gibberish... that's like textbook bad news.”

“In an Ikea?” Keith scoffs, claws drumming on the counter. “The worst thing I've ever done is make a guy kiss a pig and curse someone's shopping carts to always squeak.”

Matt squints at him, eyebrow cocked. “So you're like what... some kind of pettiness demon?”

“Half-demon,” Keith grumbles, scratching at the ugly laminate. “And yeah, kinda.”

Matt opens and shuts his mouth a few times, shakes his head and settles on the obvious.

“...Why?”

Keith blinks at him, fingers ceasing their tapping. “What do you mean why? It's what I am.”

“You don't get to like... pick?” The question is incredulous, the thought of demonic bureaucracy being that involved makes his head hurt.

“Not really, no?” Keith shrugs, not looking the least bit bothered by his apparently predestined job of being a professional nuisance. “My mom is the Lady of Vengeance, it kinda comes with the territory... except I'm a little watered down I guess.”

“Watered down...” It's barely a wheeze as Matt is accosted by visions of a female version of Keith stomping through his life wreaking vengeance for insulting her son. “Hence the petty revenge, got it.”

“Yeah.” Keith shoots him a wry smile, like he knows exactly what Matt's thinking. “Which is why this gig with Shiro is pretty good, he hasn't tried to make me do anything awful to anyone that I can't do anyway.”

“He wouldn't do that.” Matt scoffs automatically, reaching for his fruit now that he knows it's probably not cursed. “The guy's a giant marshmallow.”

“He is, isn't he?” The look on Keith's face is disgustingly soft and entirely out of place with the whole 'half-demon of petty revenge' thing. “I'm glad he summoned me and not something else.”

Matt sputters around his bite, coughing up a chunk onto the floor between them with watering eyes.

“Tell me it's not that easy,” he groans, accepting the glass of water that Keith holds out across the gap.

“Well...” Keith hedges, suddenly shifty like he thinks they're going to trade him out for some other sugar demon. “Me and mom are only one consonant apart when you're saying the words.” He shrugs again, face pulling into a grimace. “Loads of people try to summon her and end up disappointed with me instead.”

“Is she hot?” The words are out like some sort of horrible compulsion before Matt can stuff them back inside the dark corners of his psyche. “I... I mean-”

One delicate eyebrow arches at him.

“Literally, yes, since she's like... a demon admiral or something I guess.”

“Huh.” Matt sucks in a breath and studies Keith's face for murderous intent. “Is she sin-”

“No.” Fangs click around the word and eyes narrow. “Eat your apple.”

Matt eats his apple.

* * *

Shiro comes home to shouting and braces himself for the worst.

“You fucking cheater!” Matt howls like he's been shot, “Dark magics!”

“I will shit on everything you love.” Keith growls back, low and menacing.

“Hey!” Shiro barrels into the living room, ready to rip them apart and salvage missing limbs. “Get off of-”

There's no visible blood, strewn limbs, or sizzling flesh – just two idiots with controllers flung across a sofa and Mortal Kombat playing on a giant tv that hadn't been there this morning.

Matt takes the distraction as an opportunity to lick his pinkie and jam it into Keith's ear.

“You fucker!” Keith shrieks, eyes flashing gold as he morphs further into his true form and curls a long forked tongue all across Matt's face.

“Augh!” Matt scrambles off him, wiping his face in panic as he keeps his eyes squeezed shut. “That shit better not be corrosive!”

“It'd be an improvement,” Keith grumbles, digging a finger into his violated ear. “With half a face you'd only be half as ugly.”

Shiro can only gape at them, struck dumb by the unexpected lack of genuine violence.

“What.... when did...”

The scowl melts off Keith's face as he beams up at Shiro like an overeager puppy. “Shiro, we were waiting for you!” He wiggles the third controller set aside in the empty spot on the couch. “But then we got bored and needed video games.”

“Uhh?” Shiro darts a glance over to Matt, wondering how hard he hit his head... or maybe Keith really can cast love spells. “Together?”

“Duh.” Matt meets his questioning gaze with a smirk, like he does when he knows exactly what's going on in Shiro's mind and is already one step ahead. “Turns out I stole your demon boyfriend and now we're best friends.” He reaches over to ruffle Keith's hair and gets swiped at with a clawed hand for his troubles. “Sorry not sorry, buddy.”

Keith nods next to him and kicks his feet up to plant them Matt's shoulder, wiggling kittens in his face. “Yeah, turns out he's not entirely awful either,” Keith smirks at Matt's offended noise and presses his toes closer to his cheek. “And he's got a ton of great ideas to make my job easier.”

Shiro feels like he might faint. Maybe he already did and this is just the blissful aftermath – dreams of a life where his best friend and new crush get along swimmingly - god knows it's never happened in real life.

“Your... job?”

“Oh yeah,” Nodding, Matt tries to shrug the feet off to no avail as he throws an impressed look Shiro's way. “Did you know our boy here is the demon of pretty revenge? How cool is that?”

Between 'our boy' and Matt's dream job, Shiro isn't quite sure how to unpack everything in that sentence – he settles for a look that he hopes conveys the proper amount of feeling for the title.

“Wow Keith, that's neat, I'm proud of you.”

Judging by their matching raised eyebrows he lands a little more on the side of boy scout leader than he intended.

“Yeah, well...” Keith shrugs off the praise, the tips of his ears coloring as he turns back to the game. “It's no big deal, just the family business.”

“Okay, well, um...” Shiro hesitates, throwing Matt another desperate glance and getting an exasperated shooing motion in return. “Do you still wanna play, some uhh... video games?”

Groaning, Matt thunks his head back into the couch.

“Sure.” Keith ignores him and hands the extra controller over to Shiro, finally letting his feet slide off Matt's shoulders and back into some semblance of a normal seated position. “Do you wanna play Mario or Spock?” He blinks innocently at Shiro's frozen face as they both watch two characters bounce in a gore soaked stadium that is certainly not home to either of those two. “Matt just taught me how to play this Pokemon game... but I have to warn you, I'm pretty good.”

Matt watches Shiro's entire soul leave his body as he sinks onto the couch, his smile a touch manic and eyes dead inside. “I'll...” His voice warbles, vocal chords protesting. “I'll take Spock.”

It's beautiful.

Reaching into his wallet, Matt pulls out a five and slaps it into Keith's waiting palm with a shake of his head. “I've gotta give it to ya, you're good at what you do.” Keith pockets it with a sharp grin and watches as Matt leans down to clap Shiro on the shoulder. “That's for eating the last slice of mom's lasagna on Thursday.”

Shiro gapes after him as Matt trots down the hall to his room, leaving him with an only semi apologetic demon.

“Sorry Shiro,” Keith shrugs at him, sheepish. “Can't turn down an easy job.”

* * *

The words stick with him as the days drag into weeks, then a month or two and more – their apartment has never looked nicer and Shiro's has never felt more effervescent.

Or more conflicted.

“What if he's waiting for me to figure out how to fulfill the contract so he can leave?”

The words spill out of him, nearly whispered over takeout on a night when Keith had poofed out of existence for the scheduled mild inconveniencing of some poor sap.

Matt barely acknowledges them as he chases a bean sprout around his container with a fork.

“He's not.”

“But... what if he is?”

Shiro's tone is plaintive enough for Matt to stop his stabbing and look up at his friend's worried face.

“Shiro, do you really think he'd do that?”

One shoulder shrugs, like he can't even convince all of himself to consider it.

“He is a demon...”

Matt bristles, eyes narrowing across the table. “Half demon.” He stabs a piece of chicken and lifts the fork in a vaguely threatening gesture. “One who's been nothing but a great friend so far... what's got you twisted up?”

“It's stupid,” Shiro hedges, pushing the noodles around on his plate.

“Obviously.” Matt flicks a chunk of carrot at him, hitting him squarely between the eyes. “But it's enough that you're being a mopey bastard, so spit it out.”

Shiro doesn't even bother to wipe the sauce off his forehead as he pops the carrot in his mouth.

“He said he can't turn down an easy job.” There's a beat of silence as Matt waits for him to elaborate on what was so terrible, one eyebrow raising high enough that Shiro flushes and digs into his plate with his fork. “You know...” he mumbles, not looking up. “What if I'm an easy job too?”

Another beat of silence.

Then a fortune cookie bounces off his forehead.

“You're a fucking idiot.”

Shiro jerks back, scowling as he rubs between his eyes. “It's a valid concern.” Matt rolls his eyes and lifts his arm, poised to launch another cookie. “Okay, okay!”

“Moron,” Matt mutters, lowering the cookie to properly judge his best friend. “Of course you're an easy job for him, you're practically a dream come true.”

The whine slips out unbidden, and just a tad heartbroken.

“So do you think he's going to leave?”

The cookie comes back up with a vengeance.

“Why would he ghost the only people who have ever summoned him just to dick around and play video games?” Matt's eye is well and truly twitching now as he throws his arm out to the rest of the apartment in exasperation. “Why would he spent his hard earned petty revenge money on two idiots in a furniture store - and all his free time flirting with someone who mangled the Swedish language so badly he literally contacted another plane of existence - if he was just looking to escape?” The hand comes down with a crunch, cracking the cookie into pieces. “Did you ever think that maybe the kid is lonely and just as gross and gooey for you as you are for him?”

“Except I'm not stuck here by some idiot-mangled Swedish,” Shiro whines, dragging a hand through his hair as he grinds his teeth. “What if he can't go anywhere else until I fix this?” His voice rises steadily, edging into panicked as he tugs at his roots. “What if all of this is part of the deal that I was supposed to make to let him go and he's just going to keep trying harder until I finally figure it out and say it's enough?”  
The last words echo around the tiny kitchen, bouncing off the shiny new counter tops and the three matching cat mugs lined up on the edge of the sink.

Then it's just Shiro's harsh breathing.

The clatter of Matt's fork is jarring as he reaches over to clasp Shiro's hand, thumb stroking over his knuckles in soothing circles.

“Buddy...” Matt shakes his head in sympathy, “Have you talked to him about this?”

Shiro shrugs, petulant and stubborn but unwilling to pull his hand back from the comforting touch.

“What's the point.”

Matt shakes his head, refusing to wade into the pit of despair.

“Keith can think for himself, right?” Shiro nods automatically and Matt leans in. “Then you should ask him what he wants, and trust him to know what's best... and if that means leaving, well...” He shrugs, squeezing a little harder. “It's been a good run.”

Shiro blows out a shaky breath, knowing that Matt is right even if he hates to admit it. “Yeah, okay... I guess I will.” He lifts his eyes from the mess on his plate to his friend's concerned gaze. “Thanks, Matt.”

“Yeah, Shiro, of course.” He unclasps Shiro's hand and pushes the crushed cookie over to Shiro's side of the table. “Just don't wait too long, you know?”

Then he scoops up his dishes and leaves Shiro to think on his words.

The rest of the noodles taste like ash as Shiro pushes them around his plate before giving up and gathering his own dishes, pausing at the sight of a scrap of paper poking from the crushed cookie remains. A single tug and it pulls free, cherry red ink staring up at him.

_Actions speak louder than fortune cookies._

It was worth a shot.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Weeks later Shiro still hasn't worked up the courage to ask Keith about his intentions, preferring to stick his head in the sand and bask in his sweet company instead. He knows it can't last – not with his one-man thundercloud of angst just waiting to swoop in when he stops to give himself a moment to think about it, but after all the misfortune in his life is a few weeks of continued bliss too much to ask?

Matt seems to think so, judging by his sharp looks whenever it's obvious that Shiro still hasn't cleared the air, but so far he's kept his trap shut...

At least Keith seems none the wiser. He's taken to spending his free afternoons hanging around the apartment, lounging on the couch in workout gear that makes Shiro's mouth water, though he never actually seems to go to the gym.

Today it's blood red spandex that hugs every curve of the legs draped across the arm of the couch where Keith is sprawled and slurping something alarmingly green through a straw. His eyes are closed around a happy hum and his feet bob and sway to the song playing in his head, an accompanying rhythm to the wiggle in his torso and the nodding that ruffles his wavy hair.

It's so cute Shiro can't stop the whine from escaping his chest as he steps into the room.

“Oh!” Those gorgeous eyes snap open as Keith's whole face lights up. “You're home!” One little fang peaks out of the corner of his smile around the straw and his whole lithe body does a happy wriggle as he tries to right himself on the couch. “I made you a smoothie!”

Shiro just barely resists the urge to clutch his chest and shed a tear at the sheer adorable force packed into his accidental housemate. He settles for letting his own painfully fond smile play over his face as he heads for the fridge.

“Thanks, Keith,” He ducks into the cool air and lets it soothe the blush he knows is on the way. “I could really use a pick-me-up.”

Keith wrinkles his nose at him, smirk growing as Shiro pulls the weird green cup of sludge out and peers into it.

“I could pick you up too if you want,” he teases, claws clicking an upbeat tune onto his own glass as he blatantly eyes Shiro up and down. “You're not that big.”

Shiro covers his chest with one hand and straightens to his tallest as he throws Keith a playfully sour look and swirls the cup. “I'm pretty sure your spine would crumple there, buddy...” He glances back down to the cup - the green concoction isn't burbling or anything, but it certainly looks radioactive. “Unless this is some sort of shrinking potion and that was your plan all along.”

Keith covers a flash of hurt with a snort and a roll of his eyes.

“Oh yeah, Shiro.” He grins, baring his sharp teeth in the light. “You got me – this whole time I was trying to make you bite sized.” Punctuating the sentence with a snap of his teeth, Keith laughs and flops back into the cushions to finish his own sludge.

Flustered and tugging at his collar, Shiro can feel the sweat beading at his hairline as he tries not to think of what part of him exactly he'd like to go into Keith's mouth.

“Yeah, well-” His chuckle is thin as he dips a pinkie into cup and brings it up for a surprisingly sweet taste. “-gotta make sure and all, I know how envious you are of my ability to reach the top shelf.”

“It was one time,” Keith huffs, crossing his arms. “A guy breaks the stove climbing onto it one time, and he never hears the end of it.”

“I'm just saying,” Shiro offers as he fetches a straw and swirls the drink again. “You know we have chairs to stand on, you bought them for us.”

Sniffing disdainfully, Keith squeezes his eyes shut and turns away. “I don't need a chair, I'm half demon, I can teleport.”

“Soooo.... why didn't you again?” He's probably pushing it with the teasing tone as he shuffles over into Keith's space and plops down next to him. “Because I'm pretty sure 'petty use of powers' is right up there in your job description from what Matt's told me.”

“Because-” Keith pouts, wriggling closer to let his head rest on Shiro's thigh as he closes his eyes. “-that's stupid when there's a perfectly good counter right there.”

“Mhm...” Shiro is aware his expression is probably broadcasting how far gone he is on this boy when he reaches down to stroke his hair, but he can't help himself. “That's why you're supposed to stand on the counter and not the glass stove top.”

Keith's nose wrinkles as he pushes his head into Shiro's touch like a contented cat.

“Minor details.”

He's so cute it's painful.

“Well,” Shiro sighs, digging his finger tips in at the base of Keith's horns just to hear the rolling groan it pulls from Keith's chest. “At least you're pretty.”

One eye cracks open, sparkling purple and gold above a twinge of lilac in his cheeks.

“M'not that pretty,” Keith mumbles, rolling his face into Shiro's thigh to hide. “I've got horns.”

“Cute horns,” Shiro agrees, rubbing harder around the base of them. “And cute fangs, and cute fingers, and a cute nose... it's a good thing you haven't ditched us for some other idiots yet, you're too cute to let go.”

It's meant to be an obvious tease, but Keith tenses beneath him before he schools his face into a neutral mask and sits upright.

“What do you mean 'yet'?” He squints at Shiro's surprised face and shakes out his hair. “Why would I leave... do you want me to leave?”

“I- no?” Shiro stutters, hands hovering uselessly in the air where Keith had been. “But it- you... it's your job...”

Dark brows furrow as Keith slumps to the side and curls his feet up. “I'm not on the clock right now,” he mumbles into his knees, trying to hide a pout. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are!” Shiro lurches forward to plant a hand on Keith's shoulder. “Of course we are, Keith... you're one of my best friends.”

The pout twists but stays in place. “Then why do you think I'm leaving?”

Shiro's heart cracks at the vulnerable look in Keith's eyes.

“Because... I thought you had to make a deal, don't you?” He holds up his free hand, pointing to the tiny white mark where the sliver was. “You licked my blood off and everything... aren't you stuck here?”

“...No?” Keith blinks at Shiro like he's got three heads. “Why would I be stuck with you just because I licked your blood?”

“Isn't that..” Shiro falters, fumbling over his words as he draws back from Keith's space. “You know, with the blood and the binding and... deals?”

“Shiro...” Keith's jaw drops as Shiro babbles. “Did you think we were blood-bound this entire time?”

“Yes?” Shiro cringes, then shrugs. “No? I don't know what that is... I thought you said we had to make a deal.”

“Because you summoned me,” Keith squawks, eyeing Shiro like he's considering how fast he can get him committed. “Not because we're blood-bound!”

“So you are stuck,” Shiro sighs, grimace in full force. “Even if it's not by blood.”

“Shiro, you... that's not....” Keith growls, tugging on the roots of his hair as his eyes flash. “I can break this thing on my end whenever I want.”

“But you said-”

“I _said-_” Keith cuts across him with a glare, “-that you were stuck with me, not that I was stuck with you.”

Shiro gapes at him. “Then... why are you still here?”

Keith takes the words like a punch.

“Because I'm an idiot.” He mutters, uncoiling from the couch and stuffing his hands in the pocket of the hoodie that materializes around him. “But I'm an idiot who can take a hint.”

“Wait!” Shiro lurches forward, hand passing through thin air - trembling for a moment before his fist clenches and lowers to his chest. “That's not what I meant...”

The protest is whispered into an apartment full of expensive things, but the one that's priceless to Shiro is already gone.

* * *

Matt finds him two cartons deep into the ice cream stash, eyes red and surrounded by tissues.

“Oh, buddy...” He drops his bag and wanders over to pull Shiro into a hug. “What happened?”

“I'unno,” Shiro sniffles around a mouthful of melting dairy, eyes glassy. “Fucked up, like always... Keith's gone.”

“It can't be that bad,” Matt soothes, patting the back of Shiro's head. “You might be shit at relationships, but that kid is crazy about you.”

“I asked him why he was still here.”

Matt cringes but keep patting, “That's not so bad... you could have been playing coy?”

“Right after he said he wasn't bound to me.”

“...oh.” The patting hand stills, unsure whether further patting would be appropriate or if Shiro is looking for some kind of penance. “That's um... pretty...”

“Fucking stupid.” Shiro groans, dropping the spoon in favor of dragging a hand down his face. “I might as well have told him to get lost.”

“Hey, no,” Matt snags the hand and pulls Shiro toward him, wrapping him in a hug. “It's not that bad... it could definitely be worse.”

“How?” Shiro whines into Matt's shoulder, wiping his runny nose on the collar. “I practically kicked him out.”

“You could have, uh...” Matt darts his gaze around behind Shiro's back and pats at his head faster. “-coulda said that you wanted to keep him around to get free stuff?”

Shiro wrenches back with a heartbroken whine, eyes wide.

“Do you think he thinks that?”

“Uhh... no?” Matt scrambles for the box of tissues and shoves a clump at Shiro, unable to handle looking at his pathetic wobbling face for another second. “Probably not?”

“_He does!”_ Shiro wails, pressing the tissues to his face and honking snot into them with gusto. “He- he thinks I used him!”

Matt is not equipped to handle this level of wallowing, he's not a wallower by nature - anything he blows up spectacularly can always be rebuilt...

“Shiro, I have an idea.” Matt grabs the snot streaked man by both shoulders and gives him a good rattle. “Do you want to fix this?”

“Uh-huh.” Shiro hiccups miserably into his papery wad. “I'd do anything.”

A grin creeps over Matt's face, glasses flashing as he whips out his phone.

“Don't worry, all you need to do is keep being pretty.”

* * *

Two weeks later the plan has still not borne fruit and they're almost out of tissues.

“I don't understand it,” Matt whines to Allura over the counter of her shop, “I've posted pictures of Shiro's pathetic breakup slump on every cryptid website I could find – even the ones where he was crying shirtless into his soup.” He thrusts his phone into Allura's face. “Look how pathetic that is – and not a single peep out of Keith.”

“Astonishing,” Allura drawls, pressing the phone away with one finger. “It's almost like a supernatural being might not waste their time on the internet.”

“Oh no.” Matt shakes his head and gives her a condescending look. “Keith definitely uses the internet – how do you think he bought all that crap for the apartment?”

Allura rolls her eyes and takes another sip of her tea as Matt continues to swipe through increasingly heart-wrenching pictures of Shiro. “Have you given any thought to summoning him again?”

Matt's finger stills and he raises an eyebrow her way. “Are you kidding? There's no way I'm getting into any of that voodoo bullshit you peddle again.”

“Oh, of course.” The words are only half as scathing as they should be as Allura levels him with a glare. “The voodoo bullshit that did not in any way get you into this predicament because it's totally not real, right?”

Matt flinches and pockets his phone, raising his hands in surrender. “That's not what I said,” he backpedals, trying for his most charming grin. “You know I have the utmost respect for your... science.”

“Uh-huh.” Polished nails drum on the side of the tea cup. “That's why this is the first time you've visited my shop.”

“I've been busy?”

“With your half-demon,” Allura sighs, and drains her cup before tipping it to look at the leaves. “I know.” She wrinkles her nose at whatever she sees there and lets it settle back into the saucer. “Come on, we've got some work to do – what are his words?”

Mat blinks at her.

“His... words?”

Allura stares back, slack-jawed.

“You know, the words. The words you said to summon him? The summoning words?”

Palms up, Matt lifts his arms with a grimace. “Shiro was yelling about Swedish tables and he appeared?”

The fluttering twitch in Allura's eye is almost concerning as she opens her open tablet, tapping a few times before spinning it around.

“Which tables?”

Matt squints at the screen for a moment, wondering if a foggy guess is better than nothing.

“I think there was the sleek one, and the two squat ones, and the wooden one that Shiro cut his finger on was last... but I'm not sure.”

Allura huffs but pulls each table into a new tab and flips open her dictionary of garbled gibberish.

“I can't believed you managed a summoning spell this complicated by accident in a furniture store...”

“Hey!” Matt scowls and slumps his elbows back onto the table. “Ikea isn't just a furniture store – it's a way of life!”

Ignoring his protest entirely, she squints at the names and flips through her little book. “You said he was a demon of revenge?” Her fingers trace a glossy line of text and tap twice. “Does that look like the right words?”

Matt leans over to see the tiny text, earning himself an instant headache with the way the letters seem to writhe on the page. “Ugh... _kvasfa gwerlav vajma whatever... yeah, looks about right.” _He leans away to rub his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Your book's a little funky though.”

“Indeed.” Allura smirks over at him before scratching out a squiggly symbol with chalk. “Come here, I need your hand.”

“Aww, Allura,” Matt croons, sticking out his palm, “I knew you'd ask me to marry you someday!” The flash of Allura's blade in response is only half as cutting as the look on her face. “Ow – what the fuck!”

“Not today, Matt,” she simpers, sweet as can be while dripping a little bit of the blood into the circle. “Maybe next year.”

Matt jams his sliced thumb into his mouth and pouts around it.

“That's what you said last year...”

Shrugging, Allura starts to chant.

“_kvasfa gwerlav vajma_-”

“Uh, Allura?” Matt edges back as the air starts to hum. “Wait, Allura I don't know if this is a good-”

“-_regis bahzneth_”

The thundercrack in the tiny shop nearly rattles the jars off the walls in an explosion of heat and smoke so intense it threatens to sucks all the oxygen from the room. The bundle of herbs on Allura's counter flash into flames instantly, burning away the sigil of chalk below them like it was never even there.

“-idea...”

Allura whips her head back over to Matt, eyes wide and trembling.

“I thought you said he was a lesser half-demon!”

“That's what he said!” Matt squeaks back, eyes locked on the figure crouched on the floor, still shrouded by smoke. “What else could he be with a name like Keith?”

Two fiery golden eyes flash open as the figure uncoils to its full height, hooves shining in the candlelight of the shop and leathery wings unfurling to reveal violet skin and wicked claws.

“What do you want with my son.” The words are hissed out through far too many sharp teeth and Matt finds himself two seconds away from death by coronary event.

“Oh my god,” he croaks, eyes wide and blood flowing south so fast he thinks he might faint. “You're Keith's hot mom.”

The murder eyes blink, then crinkle at the corners as Matt's deepest darkest fantasy props her hip against the counter and laughs.

“Oh, you must be one of his new little friends,” Her lips pull tight into a smirk that coaxes a tiny whimper from Matt's throat. “He was right, you are kinda cute in a dorky way.”

“Step on me,” Matt breathes, terror boner in full swing as he sways on the spot.

“Umm... Mrs. Demon... Ma'am?” Allura pipes up from where she's half crouched behind the counter. “We're so very sorry, you're not who we meant to call.”

“Call me Krolia, sweetheart.” She winks down at them and nudges the ashen herbs with a claw. “That was some fine work if you wanted anyone but me, you're clever.”

“O-oh... thank you.” Allura coughs into a fist, cheeks heating at the praise. “I didn't mean anything by the protection sigil with your son and all.”

“I know.” A barb tipped tail comes up to flick at a jar on the counter, prodding at the contents as Krolia checks her nails. “If you had you'd already be dead.”

Matt whimpers.

“Please, I don't need my spine, you can break it,” Matt babbles up at her, hearts in his eyes, “I'll be your good boy, I'll even wear a collar, I'll shine your pretty, pretty hooves...”

“_Matt_,” Allura hisses, scandalized. “Have some shame!” She turns to Krolia, and lays a hand on her arm, smile brittle. “I'm sorry about him, he's always been a little eager.”

“It's alright,” Krolia snorts and pats Allura's hand. “The little ones are always the most fun to play with.” She shakes her head with a laugh and turns back to Matt, lifting his chin with a finger. “But I'm not here to be your Mistress, am I?”

The dry bob of his adam's apple is audible as it nudges against her claw.

“Ma'am?” He squeaks out, heart hammering like a jackrabbit.

“My baby boy was so happy these past months, you see...” She walks her fingers down his throat to his sternum. “Glowing, you might even say, like a boy in love.” The fingers drum against his heart. “And I was so proud of him for making friends... so happy he'd finally come out of his shell.”

Matt nods frantically as the claws walk further, down to his solar plexus. “Yeah, Keith's great-”

The claws prick in.

“Now imagine my surprise then, when he comes home two weeks ago like a cat that's had its tail stepped on.” Fiery eyes narrow and waves of luxurious hair cascade down as she tips her head. “And now he hasn't left the house, barely wants to talk, and has been playing that god-awful music on repeat the entire time.”

“That's why we were trying to summon him,” Matt blurts out as the pinpricks turn to something threatening to stab through his shirt. “Shiro wants to explain and apologize.”

The pressure backs off, claws dragging back up to caress Matt's cheek.

“Explain what, exactly?”

“Uh...” Matt freezes under the hypnotic stare like a rabbit facing down a wolf.

“He thought they blood-bonded,” Allura groans, hands scrubbing down her face. “Keith apparently ingested some of Shiro's blood, and Shiro thought he had trapped him into servitude somehow.”

Krolia huffs in surprise, leaning back and swinging to look at Allura with a raised eyebrow.

“Seriously? He thought a little blood play could trap one of us?”

Allura shares a wry grin and shakes her head. “If you haven't noticed, these two idiots don't know a thing about how this works... they summoned Keith by accident in an Ikea.”

“They _what_?” Krolia barks a laugh, then slaps a hand over her mouth to try to control further undignified giggling.

“I know,” Allura sighs as she rubs her temples. “I don't know how they did it either... Matt claims it was mangled Swedish tables and realm-transcending thirst – apparently he was in the middle of breakfast.”

“Oh no-” Krolia cackles, plopping down in an overstuffed armchair before the force of her laughter sends her toppling. “-please tell me he had those ridiculous slippers on, please.”

“He did,” Matt pipes up, moony and eager to be of service. “The kitten slippers and a bowl of cereal.”

“Oh sweet Luci... I am never going to let him live this down,” she snickers, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “He told me he's been on 'special assignment' these past months – not that he got blind-sided fresh out of bed and latched onto the cute moron who did it...”

“Either way-” Matt pouts at the lack of attention and shuffles closer. “We need to talk to him so Shiro can tell him that he didn't mean for Keith to go away.”

“Did he banish him?” Krolia cocks an eyebrow and flicks a glance at Allura, receiving a doubtful shake of the head in return.

“He, ah... might've asked why Keith was still around if he wasn't bound – since they never made a deal.”

“Aaah...” Krolia nods, clicking her tongue in exasperation. “And that emotional cripple took it as a brush off.”

Heaving a sigh, she hauls herself from the chair and plants a palm on the counter, tapping the grain with a roll of her knuckles. “Well darlings, thanks for the chat... it was enlightening to say the least.” She reaches out to ruffle Matt's hair and throws Allura a wink. “I've got to go drag my feral child from his depression cave and throw him into the shower – can't have him showing up smelling worse than brimstone.”

Then she's gone in scorching flash, leaving only charred floorboards and Matt's raging thirst behind.


	6. Chapter 6

“You will not believe who just accidentally summoned me.”

Keith yelps as his mom kicks the bedroom door in, nearly sending him careening off the mountain of blankets he's swaddled himself in.

“Christ...” Keith groans, clutching at his chest and glaring. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“My house,” Krolia shrugs and plops herself down on the end of the bed, wrinkling her nose at the miasma in the room. “Ever heard of opening a window?”

“Whatever.” Keith flops back down and tries to roll over - the picture of teenage angst that Krolia thought she was finally rid of. “It won't make a difference.”

“Ah yes, fresh air is meaningless, just like your black abyss of a life so I've heard,” Krolia drawls, eyes rolling as she gets up to yank open the window. “Being you is so hard... a job that requires minimal effort aside from creative scheming, rent free living, a pretty mortal boy dumb enough to summon you and then develop a puppy crush...” She reaches out to drag a claw against the bottom of his foot. “Sounds really backbreaking.”

Kicking out reflexively, Keith starts to flail through the blankets before his brain catches up with her words and he freezes.

“How do you know about Shiro?”

Her toothy smirk stretches wide - the cat that got the canary.

“I may have met his little friend, who proved rather useful.”

“Oh my god, did you kill Matt?” Keith's eyes nearly bug out of his head as he scans her up and down for the telltale blood spatters. “He didn't do anything to me!”

“I wouldn't kill him,” she scoffs, picking at her nails. “He's a cutie, and totally willing to divulge whatever information would make him my 'good boy'... he even offered to let me break his spine.”

Her air quotes are a tad unnecessary with the train wreck of a mental image Keith's already pictured, knowing that Matt was a lost cause from the start.

“You didn't take him up on it, did you?” He's almost afraid to ask, also knowing her proclivity for toying with the little ones. “He's still my friend, I think.”

“Of course not.” Krolia's tone is reproachful as she eyes her son's anxious face. “I wasn't really on the clock... they were aiming to summon you.”

It's enough to send Keith scrambling to sit, wafting the stink of depression sweat up from the accumulated bedding.

“Shiro was trying to summon me?”

“Unless Shiro's a gorgeous lady with white hair and some some serious skills, no.”

Keith slumps back down into his cocoon.

“Then what did Matt want, another blender?” The words are bitter enough to surprise them both as Keith spits them out like venom. “I thought they'd had enough of me.”

“Yeah, about that...” His mom sighs and shakes her head. “I really need to get you into some sort of counseling for these abandonment issues.”

Bristling, Keith sneers in her direction and gathers his knees to his chest, exposing the bedraggled slippers from under the blanket pile.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Mine, obviously.” One cool eyebrow raises as Krolia steeples her fingers in front of her face. “But if you're going to throw away every good thing in your life the second it gets hard because you won't risk a little pain, then you're going to have a very boring and bitter existence.”

Keith shrinks under her judgment, looking every bit the little boy she left behind as he pouts up at her.

“But he said he didn't want me... I don't want to force him.”

“Did he?” She cocks her head and snaps her fingers, materializing a tablet between them. “This doesn't seem like the face of a guy who's happy to be rid of someone.”

Keith squints at the screen, trying to make sense of what he's seeing on 'Cryptid Collective' – a site that appears to have been made in the dawn of the internet by people who think Mothman works at their local 7/11.

“Is that... Shiro?”

“They're calling him The Weeper.” Krolia grins and wiggles the pad. “I think your other friend was trying to get your attention.”

Keith snatches it closer and swipes through the blog posts, showing the blurry shirtless form of Shiro crying into his pasta... then face down on a couch cushion... with a hand on the window... while drinking a smoothie...

They just keep going, each marked with the caption 'Weeper spotted in natural habitat after losing mate.'

“Wow,” Keith blows out a breath as he scrolls through countless pictures of Shiro's blurry face. “Matt's an asshole.”

Krolia shrugs, tail wrapping around the pad and tugging it back into her hands.

“I think he thinks we go on those sites, he tagged them all for you...” She peers down at the screen and pulls up the keywords. “This one is 'Keith', 'demon Keith', 'I'm sorry, half-demon Keith', and 'Keith please I can't take this'... does he think you search yourself a lot?”

Keith shakes his head. “Why didn't he just text me...”

“You gave him your number?” The shock in his mom's tone would almost be offensive if she didn't look so pleased. “Sweetie you really did make friends!”

“Well, uh...” Keith hedges, shooting a glance at the phone on his desk. “Not exactly, but I'm sure he could figure it out... I put my number under the In Case of Emergency label in Shiro's phone.”

“...did you change the name of it?”

“Who else would have a 666 area code?”

Delicate claws come up to knead at her temples as Krolia mutters under her breath.

“How are you worse at flirting than your father...” She cracks one eye and fixes him with a look. “Either way, you at least need to get out of this room so I can burn these sheets... go shower or something.” Her tail wraps itself around his wrist and tugs Keith out of the bed.

“Alright, I'm going!” He flails his arm, cradling it close to him as she loosens the coils. “No need to be so pushy.”

“Contrary to popular belief, you're only half a hellion,” Krolia sniffs at him, gathering the sheets in her arms. “Your sense of smell is far weaker, and frankly I'm pretty sure this falls into the category of bio-hazard intervention, now _go._”

Keith grumbles but does as he's told, stumbling into the bathroom before attempting to drown himself in the boiling spray.

“And for Luci's sake, we need to do something about these rancid slippers,” Krolia calls through the door, muffled enough that Keith feels safe twisting a mocking face. “The fabric used to be red!”

Forty-five soul cleansing minutes later Keith is loathe to come out and prove his mother right. The bathroom is still steamy as he towels his hair off, leaving it sticking up every which way and forgoing a shirt until his skin is less lobster pink.

“Alright, play it cool,” he mutters to himself, prepared to stroll back into the house like he hadn't just spent two weeks stewing in his own filth.

The door creaks open in a billow of wet air as he pokes his head out, hoping to creep into the kitchen and pretend he was always there before she can say 'I told you so'.

He gets about two steps.

“I told you you'd feel better.” The smirk in his mother's tone is evident as she dangles two pairs of slippers from her fingers – one larger and black and the other a freshly scrubbed red. “Now we just have to get you back to your boyfriend so he can grovel.”

“Mom, no,” Keith sighs, pushing past her to the fridge for some distraction. “He's not my boyfriend, and at this point he probably does hate me.”

Purple lips turn down into a fangy pout behind him.

“But I got him matching slippers!”

Keith huffs a laugh as he pulls out a candy bar, twisting to throw a look over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I'm just gonna show up after two weeks with some slippers like nothing ever happened-”

“Yeap.” Krolia cuts him off, eyes glimmering as she raises her hands. “Don't come back without my future son-in-law.”

Then she whips the footwear at him and snaps her fingers, banishing him in a crack of smoke and swiping his candy bar from mid air.

“'Have a boy' they said,” she mutters, peeling the wrapper off and taking a precautionary sniff. “'It'll be less drama' they said.”

She sighs and takes a bite.

“Kids...”

Being banished forcibly is far less pleasant than warping yourself somewhere, particularly when it's done by someone with more power in the tip of her tail than most demons have in their entire host.

Keith finds this out when he hurtles from the portal at top speed directly into a familiar leather sofa.

“_Fuck_,” he groans, clutching his ribs where they'd made unceremonious impact with the cup holder. “Ow.”

The slippers exit the portal and smack him in the back of the head, purely insult to injury.

“Ughh.” He cradles his skull, eyes pinched shut against the oncoming headache as his bare torso sticks to the leather underneath him.

“...Keith?” A spoon clatters to the counter behind him and Keith freezes, hackles up. “Keith, is that you? Are you okay?”

“Fuckity fuck,” Keith growls, snapping his fingers in a futile effort to warp back home. “Come _on_ Mom, really?”

He swears he can hear her laughter from here.

There are footsteps behind him now, drawing closer before a hand engulfs his shoulder. “Keith, can you hear me?” Tensing immediately, Keith jerks out of the touch and whirls around, scrambling back into the couch despite the protest in his ribs. “Whoa, easy!” Shiro backs off immediately, hurt plain across his face as he holds his hands in front of him.

“I can hear you fine,” Keith mutters, crossing his arms to hide his bare chest. “Just an unexpected entry.”

His attempt at nonchalance is hampered by the haphazard mop of hair he can feel sticking up everywhere and his freshly blooming bruises.

“I bet,” Shiro sighs, dropping his hands and wandering to sit in the armchair. He aims a small, wobbly smile at Keith, but it doesn't touch his eyes. “For what it's worth, it's nice to see you.”

“Uh... yeah.” Keith shrugs, curling into himself. “Sure, you too.”

The ensuing seconds of awkward silence is not what Shiro was hoping for, but certainly more than he expected.

“Sooo... how have you been?”

Keith's knee jerk reaction is to lie, of course - to tell Shiro that everything is great and that he'd found loads of new friends who wanted him around and that he definitely hadn't spent the last two weeks stewing in his own filth and regret... but the look on Shiro's face stops him.

Sighing, he shrugs again. “Been better.”

“Yeah,” Shiro huffs a laugh, dragging a hand through his hair before scrubbing it down his face. “I can sympathize.”

Now that he's really looking, Keith can see the truth in it – Shiro looks like shit.

“Have you slept at all lately?” His brow furrows as he takes in the bloodshot eyes and dark circles. “You look awful.”

“Gee, thanks.” There's no heat to Shiro's words as he plants his elbows on his knees, chin resting on his knuckles. “That's what happens when you accidentally run off your best friend and wallow in casual self-hatred.”

A flicker of hope sputters to life in Keith's chest and he shifts closer.

“Matt left?”

Shiro purses his lips, annoyance flickering on his face for the first time.

“No, Keith.” He straightens up, gaze boring into Keith with such intensity it makes him squirm. “This cute half demon that I knew, who thought I didn't want him around anymore because we weren't bound, when really I want him around every day until he's sick of me and leaves my sorry ass.” Keith gapes at him in shock and all the wind lets out of Shiro's sails. “...but I guess he already kind of did, didn't he?”

“Shiro...” Keith reaches out a hand, stopping just shy of Shiro's own. “I'm sorry I left without talking to you.” One fang worries the corner of his lip as he gives a tiny twitch of his shoulders. “I guess I have abandonment issues or whatever and I thought...” He trails off, swallowing hard as Shiro's steady gaze holds his own. “Well, I guess it doesn't matter what I thought, I should have let you talk then, so... yeah.”

“Can I explain now?” The words are whispered, not quite a plea, but the hope laid bare in Shiro's eyes has Keith taking his hand and sinking to Shiro's feet before he can stop himself. “I never meant to make you think I didn't care-”

“Shiro, I know-”

“Please.” Shiro cuts across him, sucking in a steadying breath. “I need to get this out.”

Keith nods, reaching for Shiro's hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I'm listening.”

“I... I thought I had trapped you accidentally, when I summoned you and didn't make a deal after.” Shiro shakes his head, brow wrinkling. “I should have researched what I was doing, but I was enjoying your company so much I thought if I could just pretend everything was normal you could stay and...” He sighs, stroking his thumb over Keith's knuckles. “I guess I realized how selfish it was - if you had been stuck - that I was keeping you here... and then I started thinking that of course you were stuck here, why else would you hang out in an apartment with two broke losers who can't even keep food in the fridge.”

Keith makes a noise of dissent at that, pressing closer to Shiro's leg and squeezing his hand tight.

“Shiro, it was never about any of that... you're the first person who really liked me for me and not just what I could do for you.”

“I-” Shiro falters, swallowing hard. “I know that now, but... it was just too good to be true, ya know?.” He lifts his eyes to Keith's, mouth pulled into a wry smile. “So when you said you could leave anytime you wanted I was confused and... well, you know the rest.”

“I thought I did,” Keith breathes, reaching up to cup Shiro's cheek. “I thought you were upset with me.”

Shiro's head cocks like a confused puppy, nuzzling his face further into Keith's palm.

“How could I ever be upset with you?”

“I lied.” There's no sense in sugar coating the words now. “I didn't tell you there was nothing keeping me here because I wanted the excuse to see you.” It feels good to let it out, like a weight lifted off his chest as Keith spills his heart to someone he hopes will keep it. “I thought maybe, if you got used to me, maybe we could be... well...”

“We can.” Shiro leans in, palming Keith's neck and dragging their foreheads together. “We can be anything you want, Keith.”

“What if I just want you?”

Shiro tips his chin up to brush lips once... twice... then Keith surges forward, crushing their mouths together and winding his fingers into Shiro's hair. It lasts for seconds and a lifetime - everything Shiro had ever fantasized about and more, complete with the bite of sharper teeth into his lower lip as Keith draws back panting.

“You already have me,” Shiro gasps, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, still just a touch dazed. “As long as you want.”

Keith huffs a laugh and dives back in, pressing kisses to each corner of Shiro's mouth before trailing up to breathe in the crown of his hair.

“Be careful what you wish for.” His eyes glimmer as he draws Shiro up rub their noses together. “Or I'll bind you for real this time.”

Shiro tangles their fingers and stands, walking backward toward his room.

“I'll hold you to that.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow as Keith trails after him, heart in his eyes. “But first I want to test Matt's soul sucking theory_._”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It done! :)


End file.
